


Solstice Games

by opalmatrix



Category: Frontier Wolf - Rosemary Sutcliff, SUTCLIFF Rosemary - Works
Genre: Celebrations, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nightmares, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexios has his worries during his first year of commanding the Attacotti.  Fortunately, he has a staunch supporter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/gifts).



> [**Jain**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain) wanted something about "Alexios' ... building a new self-image ... as someone whose closest relationship is with someone within the army hierarchy rather than an outsider." Beta by **[smillaraaq](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Smillaraaq/)**.

He woke with his heart pounding and his hair plastered to his forehead. It took a moment for him to remember which lime-washed cell of a room this was, in which frontier fort. Gallia Belgica, not Caledonia. It was the Rhenus that flowed before the fort, not the cold and brackish waters of the arm of the northern sea, and the trees of the forests beyond were thicker and taller than the ones he haunted in his dreams.

_Cunorix slid a companionable arm around his shoulder, and then Alexios realized there was no flesh on those bones, and he tried to step away, but there was marsh muck around his ankles, up to his knees, and even farther ... ._

"Hello, what's this?"

Someone was lounging in the doorway, with a small lamp in his hand. It was Hilarion, and Alexios was first glad to hear that light, almost-amused voice, and then ashamed, for he was the commander here.

"Just a dream. Just – a dream, Hilarion. I didn't mean to wake anyone."

"Well, as to that, I was already awake. May I enter?"

"Of course." Alexios sat up, the striped native rug falling from his body, Hilarion came closer and gave Alexios a quick once-over by the light of the little lamp. He had a flask tucked into his belt, which he pulled out and set on table that did double duty as Alexios' desk and bedside table. 

"You're all a-sweat like a horse after a hard run," observed Hilarion. "I'll fetch some cloths and water."

"You don't need to – " said Alexios, but Hilarion was gone.

Alexios got up and stripped off his sweat-soaked linen undertunic, then got a dry one from his wooden gear chest. Hilarion returned with one damp towel and one dry and wordlessly held them out to him. Alexios wiped himself down as best he could with the damp one, but when he reached for the dry one, Hilarion shook his head. "Let me get your back."

The damp linen passed firmly over his shoulder blades and down his spine. It was strangely soothing, and Alexios found himself wishing for more. Hilarion dried off his back and handed him the towel to finish the rest himself. "Care for a drink?" asked Hilarion.

"If it's the usual ration wine ... ."

Hilarion pressed one hand to his own chest. "You wound me deeply. Would I offer that to an old comrade in distress? No, this is some excellent stuff that I get from Magurix, who keeps the tavern at the far end of the street. Here – you'll be the better for it."

The wine in the flask was all that Hilarion had boasted: heavy, tart and sweet together, with a taste of raisins and berries. Alexios, who was feeling slightly chilled after his hasty sponge bath, felt a pleasant warmth drift over him. "How late is it?"

"No more than a couple of hours after midnight. If you'll but lie down again, you'll be able to get a good nap before cockcrow."

Alexios' mind's eye suddenly conjured for him the sight of bare bones glimmering in the dark. "Maybe not," he said, after a moment. "Perhaps I'll read until dawn, instead."

"You'll be dead on your feet the entire day," said Hilarion. "Don't be a fool. Look, lie down. There. Now, move over. Good." He sat down on the edge of the bed and started to untie the laces of his marching sandals.

"Hilarion, what in Typhon's name are you doing?"

"Making sure you get some sleep." Hilarion stood up again and dragged his uniform tunic over his head.

"You mean to bed yourself down here?" said Alexios, incredulously.

"Very good! Well observed. Yes, I do."

"It's a very narrow bed."

"That it is." Hilarion blew out the lamp and lay down next to him. "Roll onto your side: works better than way in a narrow bed."

Alexios was not going to ask how he knew that. Perhaps Hilarion had had a brother, thought he'd never mentioned one. "I certainly hope no one finds you here."

"They'll knock, you know. You're too new to them for anyone else to take the liberties I do. And it will be easy enough to act as though I just came in early with a stellar idea for re-organizing the supply sheds, or some such. Good night, Commander."

Alexios sighed. "Good night, Hilarion."

And in truth, it was very easy to sleep, knowing in his very flesh that a solid, living body was next to his.

As it happened, Hilarion's visit in the dark hours of the morning went unnoticed by the Attacotti. Alexios had woken at cockcrow and had shaken his bedmate into some semblance of waking. Hilarion had sleepily donned his tunic and laced his sandals. Then, with a remarkable shift of posture, he had flung open Alexios' door and given him a crisp salute: "Right, sir: I'll take care of that directly." Clearly anyone who had witnessed the little scene thought nothing more than that the Ducenarius had been briefing the Commander on some urgent matter at dawn.

Autumn drew on toward winter, and the days were at their shortest. After a number of brief talks with the most senior and sensible of the Attacotti, Alexios and Hilarion had made allowances for a certain amount of solstice revelry, with some customs taken from the Saturnalia and some from the Attacotti's own traditions.

A huge pile of logs and brush for a bonfire was piled up in the parade ground. On the morning of the solstice day, four of the youngest Attacotti appeared with a miniature funerary bier, decorated with winter greenery arrayed around the tiny corpse of a songbird, and paced solemnly about the fortress, collecting contributions of small coins that reappeared near evening in the form of the native honeyed wine and sweet cakes. The men then entertained themselves for a while by having the officers – Alexios and Hilarion included – march in unlikely formations, to much laughter and ribald commentary. There followed some wrestling bouts, an archery competition with a beautifully tooled leather belt as a prize, and some comic athletic contests involving raw eggs, buckets of water, and blindfolds.

Then the cooks brought out platters of roast meat and wedges of cheese, pitchers of ale, and baskets of bread and of apples to load the trestle tables that had been set up before the praetorium. A roar of approval went up. The most senior centurion, Atellus, mounted the step before the praetorium's doors and rapped on it with his vine staff until the noise subsided to a cheerful murmur. Atellus raised an ale-cup with his free hand.

"Let us give thanks for this feast day! May all the gods look well upon us in the year to come," bawled Atellus. "We've had a good year, here in Gallia Belgica! We're a cracking fine Ordo. I think we're the best on the frontier, if truth be told!"

A cacophony of cheers and whistling broke out. 

"And who's to blame, eh? Who's kept us marching about, and riding patrols 'til we're nigh blue as the Painted Folk over the water, and drilling our swords 'til our hands shake like those of an old grandmother? It's the Commander, and those blasted officers of his, ain't it? So let's hear it for the Commander, and for those doughty officers! All the best in the year to come." He tossed back his ale and raised the empty cup. "To the Commander!"

The men roared and stamped. Hilarion clapped Alexios on the shoulder.

"That's torn it," he said, cheerfully. "Better go offer your thanks in return, and keep it short."

Alexios, who was still feeling the effects of his blindfold run across the parade ground and into the very hard shoulder of one of the Attacotti junior centurions, shook his head, took a deep breath, and leapt up beside Atellus, raising his arms as though he'd won a victory in the arena. The men subsided again.

"My thanks for your thanks! I must say that even the finest smith can't make a good sword out of iron that's no good to begin with, and I wouldn't have got very far if you weren't as good as you are! I want you to eat hearty, drink deep, and enjoy this feast day! Have at it, fellows!"

A cheer broke out again, but it trailed off quickly as the men swarmed the tables. Alexios, coming off the step, was handed a loaded plate and a cup of ale. He joined Hilarion on the edge of the parade ground, unsurprised that he had managed to secure his own platter of food.

"We ought to make ourselves scarce," said Hilarion, at last, and swallowed the rest of his ale. "No one wants to have Pater watching while he makes a fool of himself with his mates."

"I suppose you're right," said Alexios, rather regretfully, looking at the merriment. Some of the younger men were prancing through a complex, high-stepping dance over a pair of pilum shafts crossed in the center of the parade ground, while their mates accompanied their efforts with a reed pipe and stamping feet and encouraged them with shouts. "Care for a game of draughts, Hilarion?"

Hilarion looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then grinned. "Some sort of a game, in any case. Come on, then."

Alexios led the way back to his room, waved Hilarion inside, and shut the door. Hilarion took him by both shoulders and kissed him, square on the mouth.

"There," he said, stepping back. "Now you can break my nose, if you'd like. Although it will cause talk. I suppose I can say I walked into a door jamb."

"What –" said Alexios, and then stopped. Hilarion's long mouth was quirked into a mocking smile, as it often was, but his eyes were serious. "Hilarion ... I ... . Hell and Furies, this is not something I should discuss on this much ale."

"I don't think that being sober will make it any much better," said Hilarion. "In fact, I think some wine might be in order."

"I don't suppose we can assume that it just didn't happen?"

"I shouldn't, if I were you."

Alexios sighed and looked away, only to notice a familiar flask on his table. This time, a sprig of mistletoe was tied about it with twine. "Wine, you said. That looks like Magurix' best." 

"It is indeed."

Alexios shifted the table away from the bed and then got the draughts board and men out of the chest. He set it up next to the flask, sat on the bed, and waved Hilarion to the stool. "I won't break your nose, for now. I want my game of draughts. And my drink."

"Shall we play for stakes?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Hilarion just looked at him. Alexios felt his own face go hot. "What if I said, 'maybe'?" he said.

"That would be cruel."

"Hand me that wine." Hilarion withdrew the stopper and did so. Alexios took a long drink and gave it back to him, then gestured at the board. "You can have the first move."

"The stakes?"

"What you will." Alexios smiled slowly. "Play to win, Hilarion."

 


End file.
